


You'll See Me Again

by matildajones



Series: Tumblr Fics [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, PTSD, Past Kidnapping, Prince Derek, Scars, Temporary Character Death, i promise no one actually dies after the fic starts :), soldier Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4761017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matildajones/pseuds/matildajones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Stiles is standing there in his uniform, hair long and hands behind his back. There’s a blush on his cheeks and he can barely look Derek in the eye.</i>
</p><p>
  <i> “Hey,” he whispers. He’s wearing the medal Derek had presented to him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i> Derek stares. He doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore.</i>
</p><p>--</p><p>Stiles is the soldier who saved Derek and brought him back home. He doesn't seem to care that Derek's a prince or that he's a little bit broken. Derek falls, quick and sure, but it's not easy knowing that Stiles will soon have to return to the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll See Me Again

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on tumblr and people seemed to like it so I am posting it here too :)
> 
> As the tags say, I promise a happy ending!! But if you need to, please check the end notes for more details.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

(1)

Derek remembers those big, brown eyes. Those are the eyes of the man who saved him, and as much as Derek tries to forget everything that happened to him he knows he can’t. Especially not tonight.

Derek’s head spins as the soldier bows his head, and fingers shaking, Derek places the medal around his neck. There are cameras, but they only take pictures of the good side of Derek’s face.

“Thank you,” Derek stammers, quickly hiding his hands behind his back. They shake all the time now, and he hopes no one notices.

He doesn’t know what this man thinks of him. Two others died on the mission to save Derek from his kidnappers, and that makes Derek feel sick. He doesn’t think he’s worth the life of two others, not when those soldiers risked their lives daily and all Derek used to do was sit around in castles.

“You’re welcome.” He pauses. “Your Highness.”

“Derek.”

“What?”

“You can call me Derek,” he says, glad that his voice seems steady.

The soldier’s face is hard as he stares at Derek, like he’s trying to figure him out in these few, short seconds. Derek doesn’t know what to do so he looks at his toes, at the soft red carpet below their feet. When he risks looking up the soldier’s face is kind.

“Okay,” he says, beginning to grin. He looks handsome in his uniform. “Derek. I’m Stiles.”

He lifts his hand for a handshake and Derek takes it. Stiles’ grip is warm and firm and Derek honestly wonders why Stiles doesn’t hate him.

“You’re looking a lot better,” Stiles says lightly.

Derek drops his hand. He says nothing back. He has a scar running down the side of his nose and across his cheek. It’s ugly and didn’t heal well and everyone stares at him. But he supposes, to Stiles, that he looks better without the blood and dirt on his face.

Stiles walks away, looking over his shoulder at Derek. The ceremony goes on, and Derek meets the families of the soldiers who lost their lives to save him. It’s exhausting and it makes his head throb, and the amazing guilt when he sees their tears is terrible.

–

Derek sits alone in the library, barely noticing it when someone enters the room. He’s reading one of his nephew’s story books because the words and ideas are simple and he knows what to expect. He still jumps when someone lets out a low whistle.

“Shit, this place is massive,” Stiles says, looking around at all the shelves of books. Slowly Derek gets to his feet, placing his book down carefully. Stiles turns to him. He’s wearing civilian clothes, with a plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows. “Oh, sorry. I am supposed to like bow to you or something?”

Derek shakes his head.

Stiles licks his lips and turns towards Derek. “Good. Me and the other families have been invited for an extended stay here at the castle.”

“Oh.”

“I was wondering if that was okay with you,” Stiles asks.

Derek blinks in surprise. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t want to remind you of anything you don’t want to be reminded about,” Stiles says carefully, taking a step closer. Derek shrugs, though he feels his heart quicken.

“I’m always reminded,” he says. “I’d like to have you stay here.”

He doesn’t know why he says it, but Stiles grins, warm and careful. “Very well. But only if it’s you who shows me around the castle.”

Derek swallows and nods. “N-now?”

“Why not?”

Derek exhales. He’s extremely glad that this man is treating him like he’s normal, like he’s a person. He doesn’t seem swayed by the fact he’s a royal; he doesn’t seem swayed by the scar on his face. He supposes that Stiles has seen worse injuries than his.

Stiles speaks quickly and brightly, but he listens when Derek tells him about the expensive paintings on the walls, or the portraits of his famous family. Stiles doesn’t seem all too impressed, but he is at least interested.

“Do you have a portrait of yourself?” he asks playfully.

Derek feels his cheeks go red. Stiles looks delighted.

“You do!”

Derek is thrown by Stiles’ hopeful look and he finds himself leading Stiles to his portrait down the hall. Derek can barely look at it, at his face innocent and unmarked, so he stares at Stiles instead. Derek owes so much to him. He’d never have seen his family again if it weren’t for Stiles.

“Oh my god, you’re huge!”

Derek blushes and Stiles seems to realize what he said.

“I mean, your portrait is huge,” Stiles turns away from Derek and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Derek waits at the edge of the room, silent. “Huh. You look rather nice when you smile.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Derek, is this guy bothering you?”

He looks up and his sister Laura is standing at the end of the hall, thick rimmed glasses on her face. She folds her arms and stares at Stiles with pursed lips.

“No, Laura,” Derek says.

Stiles throws him a shy look.

“Okay,” she says slowly.

“He’s really not,” Derek says faintly, and she seems to believe him.

“Thanks for bringing my brother home,” Laura says to Stiles, eyeing him carefully.

Stiles smiles easily. “No problem.”

 _No problem._  Derek quickly excuses himself.  He knows it wasn’t easy to bring him back, and that thought plagues him more than anything. He was kidnapped because he was a prince, because they could put a nice price on his head. And now he’s back and broken and more of a problem than ever.

Laura follows him to his bedroom.

“Did you talk to him?” she asks.

Derek looks up at her. “Sort of? I don’t know.”

She bites her lip. “You’ve barely said fifteen words in the past two months.”

Derek shrugs. Laura rolls her eyes and sits on the bed beside him, tucking herself under Derek’s arm. “I’m so glad you’re back. We missed you like crazy.”

Derek holds his sister tighter. He missed his family too.

–

Stiles sits next to him at dinner. He’s wearing his uniform again, shoulders broad under his shirt. Derek nods at him and instantly Stiles smiles. He’s very pretty.

“Hi,” Derek says.

Stiles’ smile grows wider. “Hello.”

There’s an awkward pause in the air as they stare at each other, and then Derek realizes the rest of his family are looking at them. Derek feels his cheeks go pink and he looks down at his food. They all seem surprised that he initiated conversation.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier,” Stiles whispers.

“You didn’t.”

“Promise?” he says under his breath.

Derek meets his eyes. He nods.

Stiles is a breath of fresh air in the room. He converses easily with the rest of Derek’s family, even though they’re royals, and he makes their other guests feel comfortable. Derek is grateful for his presence, and at the end of the meal he follows Stiles out of the room to one of the outdoor balconies.

“You have a nice house,” Stiles says. “Way bigger than mine.”

“Where do you live?” Derek asks.

“A small town. My Dad’s the Sheriff. I can’t wait to go back and visit him and my family again,” Stiles says, leaning on the guard rail.

Derek frowns. “If you want to see them then why are you here?”

Stiles snorts. “When the Queen of your country gives you a personal invitation to stay in her family home, you kind of have to say yes.”

Derek says nothing. He still doesn’t understand things like this. He’s sure Stiles could politely decline if he wanted to, and there would be no hard feelings.

“But it’s definitely nice to see you all cleaned up,” Stiles says.

“You too.”

Stiles blinks. “You remember me? Dude, you were really out of it.”

Derek turns away, almost smiling. No one’s called him  _dude_ before. He looks at the blackness of the sky as he thinks, and the stars are faint. “I remember…” he begins, and this is the first time he’s voluntarily talked about his experience. “I remember seeing your face. It was the first hope I had that I might be able to get out of there.”

“Thanks for sharing that with me,” Stiles says, and then Derek startles, because there’s a warm hand covering his own. The touch only lasts a few seconds, but Derek feels it all the way back to his room.

–

Derek finds himself seeking out Stiles. His parents, his sister and her husband, his uncle, they all notice Derek’s attachment. They all notice the way he pays more attention to his surroundings now, the way Derek actually listens in on conversations.

Derek has noticed that Stiles argues a lot with his uncle, Peter. Especially about sending soldiers to war unnecessarily. Thankfully the rest of the family finds it amusing; it’s been a long time since Peter’s had to try hard in an argument. Stiles, as a soldier, knows exactly what he’s talking about.

The first time Stiles makes Derek laugh, he doesn’t even know what he’s done. He just keeps on talking, keeps on telling his story about his best friend Scott and Derek feels light. There’s a tear in his mother’s eye, and Laura has to take off her glasses as she fans her face.

Stiles wins his family’s hearts after that. Everyone is forever grateful to him for bringing Derek back, twice.

–

Laura’s kid, Ian, is five years old. Derek has gone back to reading him a bedtime story each night, and his sister stands by the door, pretending that she’s not close to tears.

Ian puts his small hand on Derek’s face half way through the story, running his fingers over Derek’s scar. Derek freezes. He was worried since he came home from the hospital that Ian would think he looked like a monster.

Derek’s breath hitches when his nephew giggles. He looks towards his sister for help.

“I want one,” Ian says. “Mommy said you were brave. You have a scar because you were brave.”

Derek feels a little sick to his stomach because he wasn’t brave at all. He didn’t fight, he didn’t do anything. Laura sits on the bed and drags her son into her lap. She picks up the story and lets Derek leave if he wants to.

His throat has closed off, but he stays for Laura to finish the story. Derek kisses his nephew and sister goodnight and then he runs away.

He crashes into Stiles in one of the hallways. He’s holding a bowl of ice cream and he just manages for it not to spill onto the carpet.

“Sorry,” Derek mutters.

Stiles grins. “Don’t worry about it. Want some?”

Derek stares at the half-finished, half-melted ice cream. Stiles wiggles his eyebrows and then he’s reaching for Derek’s hand and dragging him towards the kitchens.

“This stuff is literally so good,” Stiles says. “We had it for dessert the other night and I had to have some more.”

“Does Anna know you’re taking it?”

Stiles licks his lips. He misses the chocolate sprinkles at the corner of his mouth. “The chef? Yeah, she said to help myself.”

After he serves Derek some ice cream Stiles hops up onto the kitchen bench. His legs swing around and his shoulders are loose. He looks like a complete contrast to when he first arrived here in his uniform, posture stiff and movements sure. His buzzcut has grown out a little.

“So, what’s up?” Stiles says carefully.

Derek shrugs.

He points his spoon at Derek. Drops of ice cream flick onto the floor. Derek snorts. “Hey,” Stiles says. “You look a little bit freaked out. And you can tell me whatever. Out of all the people in this freaking castle right now, I probably know a little bit about what you’re going through.”

“How long have you been in the army?”

“Three years.”

“And you’re alive.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, expression unreadable.

“Have you been kidnapped?” Derek asks, voice blunt. It happened when he was on holiday overseas and he had tried to get a few fucking moments of privacy. That had all backfired spectacularly.

Stiles shakes his head. “But I have been held hostage, and let me tell you, it was not fun. Like, eating way too much and puking it all up levels of not fun.”

Derek stares at him, holding his untouched bowl of ice cream. “How can you joke about this?”

Stiles finishes licking his spoon before he answers. “Sometimes it’s all you have to deal with it,” he finally says. “Now eat your ice cream before it melts completely.”

Stiles seems delighted when Derek hops up onto the counter next to him. He eats slowly, the flavour of it on his tongue. Stiles sits patiently next to him, and Derek feels calm.

Derek places his empty bowl down. “My nephew said I was brave,” Derek mutters. “I’m not brave. I can’t even leave this house. You and your friends were the brave ones, and now they’re dead.”

Stiles is silent for a moment. Derek is worried that he’s said too much, but then there’s Stiles’ hand over his  _again_ , and this time it stays there. Stiles slowly slides their fingers together and Derek feels his heart pounding in a desperately good way. It’s not something he’s used to.

“Take it from me, Derek,” he says softly. “You were brave. You are brave.”

–

“Do you ever sleep?” Derek grumbles, when Stiles convinces him to stay with him for a little longer in the kitchen. They’re alone and it’s nice. When he’s with Stiles, Derek sometimes forgets he’s even a prince.

“Nope,” Stiles says, and Derek wonders if he gets nightmares too. “Anyway, I’m still telling you about asking Lydia Martin to prom.”

“So you like girls?” Derek says weakly.

“Mmhm,” Stiles says, smiling wickedly. “And boys.”

He takes a step closer to Derek, his story forgotten. Derek’s eyes widen when Stiles cups the bad side of his face, stroking just above Derek’s scar with thumb.

“Do you remember what I said about your portrait?” Stiles whispers. “About how nice you look when you smile?”

Derek nods.

“Still true,” he whispers, and Stiles’ lips aren’t far from his own but Derek turns his head away. His eyes drop to the floor and Stiles takes a step back. “You okay?” he asks.

“Stiles, I’m, I’m very grateful that you saved me. But you shouldn’t like me.”

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Why the hell not?”

Derek meets his gaze. “Because one day you’re going to realize that I wasn’t worth it.”

“Worth what?” he says. Stiles’ cheeks are flushed and he looks beyond confused. It makes Derek feel sick to say it, but he needs to.

“I wasn’t worth the life of your friends,” Derek says, and it’s a solid, definite truth. “I’m a privileged prince who has done nothing with his life, and all of you risk your lives every day. You all are admirable, you all should have survived.”

And he should have been the one to die. Stiles knows what he isn’t saying, and his face is hard. Derek just knows he’s the reason for the deaths of Stiles’ friends, and Stiles shouldn’t want Derek, not when it should’ve been him instead.

“You want to know the truth?” Stiles says, voice twisting around his words. “I wanted to hate you. You’re a damn prince with a fuck load of money and wealth, and your family has some say about deploying us soldiers for an unnecessary war. I didn’t want to have to save you.”

Derek’s shoulders are hunched. Stiles’ words hurt.

“But. Derek. I was being irrational. We would have gone and saved any innocent person and if anything bad happened, it still would’ve been worth it. It would have been worse to do nothing and just let someone die,” Stiles says. He takes a breath. “Those men were good men and they were my friends. You don’t get to decide whether or not you were worth their lives. You can’t put a fucking measure on that sort of thing. The moment I saw you, bruised and beaten and bloody, I knew it was worth even  _trying_  to save you.”

Derek can’t breathe. He’s not sure he knows what Stiles is saying.

“And then you gave me that stupid medal, and you still looked broken. But you were alive, fucking alive, and even though I didn’t know you I thought that was everything. And I didn’t think that because you’re a prince, I thought it because you’re a person.”

Stiles shrugs. He looks like he’s said too much. But then, then he continues.

“Nothing is your damn fault, Derek.”

Derek meets his gaze. There’s truth in Stiles’ eyes, even though it’s mixed with memories that look bitter. Stiles scratches the side of his face and lets out a broken chuckle. Derek doesn’t think he has the right to say anything, to disagree. Stiles knows better than he does about this.

“I’m the fucking coward, Derek,” he says. “I’m staying in a castle for heaven’s sake, instead of returning to fight with everyone else. But I don’t want to go back; it’s too difficult over there. And if the freaking Queen asks me to stay here, then it means I don’t have to go back so soon. Then I get even more leave than I would have had. It just sucks that I haven’t been able to see my family much.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek whispers. He sees the hot tears in Stiles’ eyes. “You’re – that’s, that’s completely understandable, for anyone. You’re not a coward.”

Stiles shrugs. “It doesn’t mean I haven’t enjoyed spending time with you. I – I wanted to be here because of that, too.”

Derek smiles slightly. He calls it a night and leads Stiles to the room he’s staying in, but he doesn’t stay. He watches Stiles flop down on his mattress and then Derek leaves. He has too much to think about.

–

It’s the last day of Stiles’ visit. Derek has a few duties he needs to carry out as a prince, and it takes up more time than he was expecting. At the end of the night Derek can’t help himself, and he creeps down to Stiles’ room hoping no one sees him.

He knocks softly.

“Stiles?” he whispers. Derek wonders if Stiles is already asleep. He wonders if he’s too late. But then he hears footsteps and the door is being opened.

Stiles smiles at him, takes both of his hands and drags him into the room. The door closes behind them and Derek tries to concentrate. Stiles is wearing nothing but boxers and a haphazardly buttoned up shirt. His hair is a mess and he looks wonderful. Just wonderful.

“I want you to stay,” Derek breathes. “Please stay a little bit longer.”

Stiles looks at the ground. His smile doesn’t disappear but it looks sad. He shakes his head. “I need to see my family, Derek.”

Derek nods. He understands.

“You’ll see me again, I promise.”

Derek’s breath hitches. He meets Stiles’ gaze, and those brown eyes of his are so close. Stiles’ hands are still holding his, but now he lets them go and runs his palms over Derek’s chest, stepping closer. He moves slowly, gives Derek all the time he needs to say no.

Derek closes the distance between them. Their lips slide together, and time stands still. Tentatively, Stiles curls his hands in Derek’s hair and Derek moans softly. Stiles smiles against his lips, pulling back.

“Can I come with you?” Derek blurts out.

Stiles raises his eyebrows.

“No, you’re right, sorry,” Derek says, turning his head. “I’m a prince, I – I don’t want to overshadow your arrival.”

Stiles laughs softly, licking his lips. “Derek. You need your family more than you need me. Let them support you.”

Derek nods. He feels Stiles’ fingertips press against his cheeks, and Derek feels awfully embarrassed but then Stiles is kissing him again. Derek is surprised someone even wants to kiss him, with his face like this, but here’s Stiles anyway.

Derek reaches for Stiles’ shirt, unbuttoning it, wanting to feel Stiles’ hot skin against his hands. Stiles groans into Derek’s mouth, kissing him hard, and Stiles’ shirt drops to the floor. Stiles freezes.

Derek drops his hands. “What’s wrong?” he whispers.

“Nothing,” says Stiles, but he tucks his face into Derek’s neck and steps closer to him. Derek’s not sure what’s happening, but he winds his arms around Stiles’ waist. He’s lean and paler now, and Derek spots moles dotted over his shoulder.

Stiles shivers in his arms when Derek runs a hand along his spine.

“Sorry,” Stiles babbles. “I just, I guess, I’m not used to showing anyone and I know I have the luxury of covering it up, unlike you, but it makes me nervous and I totally knew you were taking off my shirt, but it didn’t really click that  _you were taking off my shirt_ , and um.”

Derek blinks. He has no idea what Stiles is talking about.

But then Stiles takes a step back, and there are scars all over his torso. Worse than the scar on Derek’s face. Derek reaches out to touch, but he stops just shy of Stiles’ skin.

“What happened?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs. “I got caught in a burning vehicle. No big deal. Worse things can happen to you.”

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek says. It is a big deal, and he doesn’t understand how Stiles can brush it off the way he does. Derek gives him a hard look. “I still want to kiss you.”

Stiles blushes.

“And I still think you’re beautiful.”

Stiles immediately grabs Derek’s hand and presses it against his body. His skin is raised in parts but it’s warm, so warm, and Stiles’ eyes have grown dark. “I think you’re perfect,” he says.

Derek snorts. Stiles comes up to him and places a kiss on his jaw. He pauses and then drags his nose along Derek’s cheek, taking his time before placing soft little kisses over Derek’s scar. His heart flutters and he appreciates what Stiles is trying to say, that he’s accepting Derek for all of him, but when Stiles kisses his nose he pulls back.

“Sorry,” Stiles says.

“It’s okay,” Derek tells him. “It tickles.”

Stiles grins. “I wonder if you’re ticklish in other places too.”

Derek feels his cheeks go red, and he wants Stiles to find that out about him, and he wants to explore Stiles’ body – but Stiles is leaving tomorrow. And then he’s going back to the war. Derek doesn’t know when he’ll see him again.

Stiles sighs. He bends down and picks up his shirt again, throwing it over his shoulders. He doesn’t bother buttoning it.

“Okay,” he says, scrawling on a piece of paper. “Here is my phone number, my email address, my Skype details, my home address, and where you can send me letters when I’m back overseas.” He quirks a smile. “If writing love letters is your sort of thing.”

Derek looks at the floor, the back of his neck going hot. He’s a little bit alarmed by how much he definitely wants to do that. On another piece of paper he writes his details down for Stiles too, and Stiles holds it carefully in his hands.

“Well,” he says. “I’ll let you know when I’m back in the country.”

“Yeah,” Derek says dumbly.

“My service is almost over,” Stiles says. “I just have to make it through this time and then I’m done.”

“I’ll miss you,” Derek tells him. Stiles’ chest rises as he takes in a deep breath, and then he’s circling his arms around Derek’s neck and holding onto him tight.

The next morning when Derek waves him off, he wonders if he’ll ever see Stiles again.

–

(2)

Derek thinks he’s handling Stiles’ absence well. Dinner with his family is less … fun, but it’s still enjoyable. He still takes part in conversations and Peter at least seems happy that Stiles is gone. Apparently they had argued every time they saw each other.

Derek definitely does not blame Stiles. His uncle is a handful at the best of times.

He has talked to Stiles twice over the phone, and once on Skype. He’s still at home with his family and over the camera Stiles had seemed happier. Derek hates that he asked Stiles to stay longer, not when he clearly needed to see his father and Scott.

Derek’s met Scott too, over the internet.

“You’re the prince,” he says.

Derek grits his teeth together.

“The prince,” Scott repeats, and Stiles shoves him aside.

“Leave him alone, Scotty, his name is Derek,” Stiles says, beaming up at the camera. Stiles’ hair is even longer now, and Derek appreciates all the time Stiles gives to him before he goes away. He texts Derek back, he takes his phone calls, and Derek is thrilled.

“How many more days?” Derek asks.

Stiles takes a breath in. “Six.”

“Enjoy them,” Derek says.

“I’ll try,” he sighs. Stiles shakes his head. “Anyway, I have to go. I’m having dinner with Scott and his partner. It’s a roast. All the meals at your place were seriously good, don’t get me wrong, but I love a good roast.”

Derek smiles. Stiles stops talking and looks at him fondly. “You’re so pretty,” he says.

Derek looks away from the computer screen.

“Will you send me a picture of you?” Stiles says slyly, and when Derek looks up he sees Stiles fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve. “I won’t show it to anyone, I promise, just, will you give me something to remember you by?”

He looks up through his eyelashes, and Stiles’ camera quality isn’t the greatest but Derek feels overwhelmed.

“A, a new picture?” he asks. Derek’s not sure if Stiles wants to see his scar.

Stiles nods. “Yeah. A new picture. Just for me.”

Someone calls Stiles’ name, and Stiles hastily says goodbye, blowing a kiss to Derek through the camera. Derek is smiling goofily when he closes the laptop lid and then someone clears his throat behind him.

Derek jumps, turning around.

“You two are sickeningly cute,” Laura says.

“Laura.”

“What? Can I help you give him a picture?” she asks. “Please?”

Derek’s unsure, but his sister looks excited. He’s instantly reminded of all the times he used to spend with his sister and her husband, and Derek misses her. He finds himself nodding, and Laura beams.

She helps him take a flattering photo, one that Derek’s happy with, even with the scar running down his face. Laura goes above and beyond when she suddenly produces a locket that he can slide his photo into. It makes Derek blush because it’s stupidly romantic, and he doesn’t know if Stiles will like it.

“There we go,” Laura says. “That locket belonged to our great-grandmother. It’s been through a few wars I think.”

“Laura!” Derek hisses. “I can’t send him this! It’s a family heirloom!”

She shrugs. “I already asked our mother. She said yes.”

“But, but I barely know him,” Derek says, running his thumb over the locket. He still wants to send it to Stiles, despite what he’s saying.

Laura smiles, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Derek. He made you smile for the first time, and now I finally feel like I have my brother back. I swear that  _I_ love him.”

Derek stands up and hugs her.

“Just tell him he better bring it back.”

–

Despite how good he’s been feeling lately, Derek is still plagued with nightmares. He wakes up sweating in the middle of the night with horrid images in his head. He grips at his own hair and tries to forget it all. He needs to forget it all.

Nothing is working so he picks up his phone and dials Stiles’ number. Derek’s breaths slow even as he hears the ring of the phone, waiting for Stiles to pick up.

“ _Derek_ ,” someone slurs, laughing into the speaker.

Derek blinks. “Stiles? Are you okay?” There’s loud music in the background and some shouting in his ear. Derek holds the phone away, heartbeat quickening again until he hears Stiles’ voice.

“Derek, hey, hey,” Stiles says, and things are suddenly more quiet. “Miss you. Miss your face.”

“I miss you too?”

Stiles giggles. “I’m at a bar,” he says. “I’ve been drinking.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Derek says, kicking off his sheets. It’s nice to hear Stiles’ voice, even if he’s a bit drunk.

“You’re funny,” he says. Then he groans. “Fuck, I’ve needed a drink for so long.”

“Stiles, you should get some sleep. It’s late.”

“Mmhm, it is very late,” Stiles says into the phone, voice deeper than Derek has ever heard it. “Couldn’t you sleep? Were you lying awake and thinking about me?”

Derek doesn’t know what to say, because Stiles’ words have a weight to them and suddenly Derek is remembering them kissing in Stiles’ room and he regrets now not going any further. He wants to kiss Stiles’ body, all over.

“I had a nightmare,” is what Derek ends up saying.

“Oh,” Stiles says, and he sounds a little bit more sober than he did before. “I know about those.”

Derek is cut off before either of them can say anything else, and Scott’s voice is in his ear. “Sorry, dude, whoever you are, but I need to take this one home.”

“Scott?” Derek says tentatively.

“Um, hi your high – Derek,” he says. Derek can hear someone retching in the background. He hopes Stiles is okay. “I’m sorry if he drunk dialled you.”

“He didn’t.”

“Oh. Well. I better take him home.”

“Yeah,” Derek says.

“He’s saying something – um, he says to go wake up your sister,” Scott tells him. “If you need it.”

Derek doesn’t reply. But he desperately doesn’t want to be alone right now, terrible images still flashing through his head, and maybe waking up his sister is a good idea. Before Stiles left he told Derek to get support from his family, and he knows Laura won’t mind waking up at this hour. Not if it’s to help Derek.

“Oh!” says Scott. “Yeah. He also got your package in the mail, but uh, I think he wanted to open it on Skype in front of you.”

“Thanks Scott,” Derek says quietly, and then he hangs up. Derek puts on his dressing gown and heads out the door, wandering to his sister’s room. There are a few people up, even at this hour, just to make sure the house is okay.

Derek knocks on the door but nobody answers. He slips inside and sees Laura with her arm curled around her husband’s waist. Derek quietly shakes her awake.

“Derek?” she mumbles. “What’s wrong?”

“I, um,” he says. “I had a nightmare.”

Laura sits up straight away, rubbing her eyes. “You okay?”

Derek shrugs. He feels better after having called Stiles, but he still wants his sister’s company. She’s happy to give it too, and they both slip out of the room to go watch a movie together.

“Want to talk about it?” Laura says hesitantly.

Derek shakes his head.

“I’m so glad you came to me,” she says. “And I think your doctors will be pleased you’re not suffering alone.”

Laura grabs his hand. Her fingers are cold, but he likes having her touch near. Not every nightmare after that, but after the particularly bad ones, Derek seeks out her company.

–

Derek watches Stiles open the package with his breath caught in his chest. He looks like he has a bit of a hangover, but otherwise he seems okay.

“Um,” says Derek. “I also gave you a bigger version of the photo, just in case you wanted it. I hope you like it.”

Stiles smiles down at the locket. He traces the Royal Family Crest with his fingers.

“Do you like it?” Derek whispers. “Or is it too much?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Thank you,” he says seriously. “It’s perfect. I promise to bring it back.”

He looks at the camera then. His eyes are fierce and Derek knows Stiles is promising to come home. He’s promising to come home even though there’s no substance, no weight, no way he can keep this promise. In that moment, Derek believes him anyway.

Stiles has his hair shaven back again. Derek likes it, but he doesn’t like what it means. It means that Stiles will be leaving the country soon. It means that Derek and Stiles’ family will constantly fear for his life.

Derek promises to write to him. As soon as he says goodbye to Stiles, he picks up a pen and starts his first letter.

–

Sometimes Stiles takes quite some time to reply to him. They exchange emails and letters, but Derek likes receiving that little bit of paper. He likes running his fingertips over the ink, knowing that Stiles was the one to write those words.

He lets Stiles know that any letters he sends to Derek are passed through more than one set of hands. It’s an aspect of security that Derek hated, but after his kidnapping he’s extremely grateful for all the ways he and his family are kept safe.

Derek knows he hasn’t known Stiles long, but he wants him to come home.

–

Derek often feels rather useless. He doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life, and he swears that even though he’s a prince he’s never left any sort of mark on the world. All he has is a mark on his face, and his country’s pity.

The first time he left the castle grounds – at Stiles’ soft encouragement – there had been too many cameras and too many people calling his name. Derek had wanted to throw up, and this attention was even worse than what it had been before he got kidnapped.

“Derek,” his sister says, when they get home. “Stop looking online at what they’re saying.”

“I’m not. I’m waiting for Stiles to email.”

Laura raises an eyebrow. “You’re sitting there refreshing the page every thirty seconds.”

“Exactly.”

“And you’re looking at headlines.”

Derek shuts his laptop. They’re calling him ugly. They’re grieving the loss of the face he had before and there are comments online expressing disgust and shock.

“I am proud of you for stepping outside, somewhere where they were going to take pictures of you not from your good side,” Laura says. “But you know what? You don’t have a good side. You just have a good face.”

Derek rolls his eyes and turns his head away. He knows his sister is trying to help, but it’s not working. At least it had been good to go where he wanted to for a change. He saw a few of his friends and ate lunch with them and he’s glad they didn’t treat him any differently from before.

“Come on, Derek. Stiles will reply to you soon.”

Derek sighs. He thinks he might be putting a little too much of his happiness in Stiles’ hands. Derek can’t do that to Stiles or himself, and he follows his sister out of the room. He plays with his nephew and makes him laugh. Derek tries to forget about Stiles and the media for as long as he can.

–

Derek’s phone sounds at the dinner table. He glances at the screen and his heart immediately expands when he sees he has an email from Stiles. A slow smile spreads out onto his face.

“Derek, dear, no phones at the table,” his mother says. “You know that.”

“Sorry,” Derek says, tucking his phone back into his pocket. His skin is buzzing with excitement. “It’s from Stiles.”

Peter, at the other end of the table, scoffs. “You’re still in contact with that little brat?”

Derek glares at him. “He is not a brat, and yes I am.”

Peter rolls his eyes. Laura glances carefully between the two of them. “He never shut up about veteran support, and this and that, and how the soldiers should come home – even though we’re in the middle of a war.”

“Well,” Derek says. “I happen to agree with him. We don’t need this war. We can negotiate a peace treaty.”

Peter sighs. “Of course you’d agree with the person you’re in love with. It’s just a shame that you’re lusting after an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Maybe you suffered some brain damage after your holiday abroad.”

“Peter.” His mother’s face is furious, and Laura flinches at his words, unable to say anything.

Derek blinks. He’s received taunts from Peter all his life but this time it seems worse than usual.

“I’m not – I’m not in love with him,” Derek says, voice breaking.

Peter throws his head back and laughs, excusing himself from the table.

Derek stares at his food. It doesn’t taste so good anymore.

“Derek, I am so sorry about your uncle,” his mother says.

“Don’t listen to him,” Laura’s husband adds.

Laura only smiles, a hand on Derek’s shoulder.

Something’s rattling inside him. He needs – he needs to get off his ass and do something for a change. Peter does what he wants and then Peter gets what he wants. Derek’s never bothered to try, not even before he got kidnapped.

Derek looks up at his mother. “This issue is very important to me,” he says. “We – we don’t have the power to change things completely. But we have influence. I’m going to do something about this, whether you or Peter like it or not.”

His mother – the Queen – looks at him carefully. She nods. “We need to do it properly, Derek. Okay?”

Derek stares at her. “We? This is okay with you?”

His mother smiles wryly. “Your friend managed to persuade me while he was here. He’s quite the talker.”

Derek thinks he’s never been more proud of someone in his life.

When he goes back to his room he slides his phone out of his pocket. Derek misses Stiles, he really does, and earlier when he said he didn’t love Stiles he knew that it was a lie. He finds himself blinking back tears trying to read the words on the screen, wondering how he fell so quickly.

Stiles’ email makes him laugh. They always do. He doesn’t tell Derek much about his day to day life and Stiles’ frustration seeps into his words, but it’s so good to be even able to read what he has to say.

–

Derek doesn’t know where to start. He just knows he wants to make things better for each individual solider; he wants to make things better for Stiles and if they were still here, the men who died to save him.

He’s going to publicly oppose his uncle’s views, but Derek doesn’t care. He can’t care.

Derek doesn’t have all the answers and he tries to speak to those who do have experience, who do know what they’re talking about. It’s hard to know if he’s helping. Derek thinks it might be working because Peter eats dinner with them in cold silence.

Then one day he receives a call from an unknown number. Derek stares at the digits for a long moment, always unsure, but he answers his phone.

“Um, Derek? It’s Scott. Stiles’ friend.”

“Hi,” Derek says slowly.

“Stiles –”

Scott pauses, taking in a shaky breath. Derek is immediately alarmed, listening hard when Scott finally manages to talk.

“I thought that you might want to know.”

“Know what?” Derek says, and suddenly he regrets asking.

“Stiles is missing with a few others,” Scott says. “They should have heard from them by now.”

Derek hears immediately what Scott isn’t saying. He hears himself saying thank you, saying goodbye, and Derek leans back on his bed and stares at the ceiling. His sister finds him like that hours later, and Derek can’t even bring himself to tell her what’s wrong.

He gets up and smiles, because if he tells Laura this then it might just be true.

–

She finds out anyway.

Derek has been holding out for good news, he’s been checking his phone, hoping Scott will keep him updated. He can only imagine what Stiles’ family must be thinking and feeling.

It happens when Peter walks into the library while Derek’s studying a book, his nephew playing by his feet. He drops something on the table in front of them. Laura gasps from across the room.

“What?” Derek says through his teeth, looking up at his uncle.

Peter’s eyes narrow. “This has very kindly been returned to us, they thought we might be missing something with Royal Family Crest on it. Unfortunately, they found it on the dead body of a soldier.”

Derek’s eyes drop to the table. He sees the locket he gave Stiles sitting there, and Derek’s chest collapses. He barely sees Peter’s smirk as he leaves the room and Derek feels like his world is crumbling down.

He finally got his life together, he finally found someone who wasn’t scared of him, as a prince, as a person, and now he’s gone.

They found Stiles then, found his body and now he’s gone forever.

With shaking hands Derek reaches out and picks up the locket. It’s been well cared for despite being in the middle of a warzone. Derek opens it up and there’s his face, still there, and it makes Derek feel sad.

He feels Laura’s cool fingers on his hands and she gently takes away the locket before he accidentally breaks it. She sits on the couch next to him and wraps her arms around Derek’s shoulders. It doesn’t take long for Ian to climb up off the floor and settle in Derek’s lap too.

At least he knows. He knows what happened to Stiles.

–

(3)

It takes him over a week to pick up the phone. He knows it might be too late, but his throat has closed up every single time he’s tried.

Derek’s hand hovers over Scott’s contact name. He licks his lips. He can do this.

Scott picks up after the second ring. Neither of them says anything and Derek holds his breath, not sure if he can do this.

“Hi, Derek.”

“Stiles. He –” Derek stops.

“Yeah,” Scott says, tone unreadable. “You’ve heard, then?”

“Yes,” Derek says, voice hoarse. “Can I –” He can’t finish his sentence. He wants to ask if he can come to a memorial if he’s not too late. He wants to ask if Scott knows how Stiles’ life ended, if it was quick or if it was painful. Derek wants to ask if he can come and visit and see what’s left of Stiles for one last time.

“I – I don’t think you should come, Derek. It’s not a good idea.”

Derek bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to feel empty and disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” Scott says.

“Me too,” he finally says. There’s silence over the phone and then Scott is the one to hang up. Derek knows he wasn’t important enough. He was only a fleeting part of Stiles’ life – almost nothing.

Laura looks up at him, eyes wide behind her glasses.

“They don’t want me there,” Derek spits. “I just want – I want to pay my respects! I want people to know how much I owe him! I want to help them. I want to pay for the funeral if that’s all they’ll let me do.”

He covers his face with his hands but not before he sees Laura looking angry for him.

She sighs. “Derek, his family never saw you together. They never saw the way he looked at you.”

Derek lifts his gaze. “Do you think he loved me?” Derek asks, voice breaking.

“Yes,” she says, without any hesitance. It’s not enough to soothe him.

Laura leaves him be and Derek picks up the locket again. He hates the picture he chose, he hates the fact he never got one of Stiles. All he wants – all he needs is to hear his voice again. The sound of his laugh would make Derek feel better.

–

His nightmares get worse. He dreams of his holiday abroad – as Peter had put it – but now he sees Stiles’ brown eyes lose their life at the end of it. No one’s coming to save him anymore.

But Derek gets up every day. He has to save himself now and he has to make sure his family don’t think he’s going to stop functioning again. He still works with his mother and tries to fight for a peace agreement.

Sometimes news articles focus more on his face, his experience, rather than what’s actually important.

Derek rereads all the emails they sent each other. He feels like Stiles might be still alive at the other end, and Derek loses himself in the fantasy for a minute or two.

He sends an email, out into the void.

_I wish you were here._

Derek closes his laptop, feeling stupid. He picks up Stiles’ letters and reads those. They’re Derek’s favorites, written with charm and wit and deliberate romance.

–

It’s been three months since Derek got that locket back. He still carries it with him sometimes, even though it’s his own picture inside.

The war Stiles fought in definitely isn’t over, but Derek’s country is a lot closer to the start of a peace agreement. Derek wishes Stiles were here to see this.

Today his mother is speaking at a conference. Derek has to attend because this was his damn idea, but at least he doesn’t have to speak. He hated speaking in front of crowds before and he still does now. But he stands on the edge of the stage, trying not to flinch when people react to the scar on his face.

He remembers Stiles dragging his nose across it and kissing his skin. Derek goes to that night often, and he wishes for the millionth time that he got more than just one kiss with Stiles.

At the end of the event Derek stands inside one of the corridors, waiting for his mother to finish speaking with someone. He’s terribly bored and he just wants to sleep, but then someone taps his shoulder from behind.

Derek turns. Derek sees – he sees someone he shouldn’t be seeing and he thinks he’s fucking hallucinating. He hasn’t hallucinated for a long time now but right in front of him he  _swears_  it’s Stiles. Stiles is standing there in his uniform, hair long and hands behind his back. There’s a blush on his cheeks and he can barely look Derek in the eye.

Stiles nibbles his lip. He’s wearing the medal Derek had presented to him. “Hey,” he whispers.

Derek stares. He doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore.

“It’s nice to see you,” Stiles says, gesturing towards the conference room. “And it’s honestly so nice to see you do all this, even though – even though I treated you so poorly.”

Stiles’ cheeks go an even deeper shade of red, and he looks ashamed. Derek’s hand hovers in the air. He’s still not sure if this is real. Fuck, how can it be real? How can it actually be Stiles standing here in front of him, eyes alive – so alive.

Derek thought he was dead. No, he is dead. Derek closes his eyes. He wishes this would all go away because his heart is  _breaking_  right now. This is worse than his nightmares.

He’s still standing there when Derek opens his eyes again.

“Stiles,” he tries to say, but his voice is too hoarse for it to sound like anything.

“Fuck, Derek, I’m so sorry. I made Scott tell you not to visit me because I didn’t want you to see me how I was,” Stiles admits. “I was injured, and violent, and angry. I wouldn’t eat or sleep, and they had to sedate me, like all the time. And then I wouldn’t talk to anyone and you didn’t need that. Not when you’re still going through shit of your own.”

Derek says nothing.

Stiles stamps his foot on the ground. “Why are you looking at me like that, Derek? I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m better now – not, not perfect, but well enough to come and see you.” He swallows. “Well enough to ask if you still want something with me.”

Derek’s breath hitches. Stiles smiles, shy and beautiful.

“Do you still want something with me?” he says quietly.

“Stiles, I –” Derek says. Stiles looks at the floor, bracing himself for Derek’s answer. It’s been months. Stiles has been gone –  _dead_  – for months. But he’s standing here. He’s standing here, features sharp and clear in the light. He’s alive.

Stiles is alive.

“You, I, I thought you were dead,” Derek says, a tear dropping down his face.

Stiles blinks at him. “What?”

“I was told you had died,” Derek says, and he wipes his face with the back of his hand.

“ _What?_ ”

“You were dead.”

“ _No_ ,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “No.” He takes those few steps forward, steps that Derek can’t seem to make, and he throws his arms around Derek’s neck. He holds Derek tight and Derek tries not to sob into Stiles’ shoulder. He circles his arms around Stiles’ waist and breathes him in.

He’s alive. Stiles is alive.

Derek can’t think straight.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he hears Stiles saying. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

A few minutes later he peels himself off Derek, gently taking his hand and leading him to a private room. Derek feels his whole body trembling. Stiles makes him sit and takes the seat next to him, knees bumping into Derek’s legs.

Stiles cups Derek’s face. “I’m real.”

Derek feels Stiles’ thumbs brush over his cheeks, brush over his scar. Derek sighs.

“Derek, I’m real.”

Derek finds himself smiling. “I missed you,” he says.

“God, Derek, me too. Every day,” Stiles says, kissing Derek’s forehead. He pauses. “Why did you think I was dead?”

Derek reaches for Stiles’ hand and tangles their fingers together. He feels extremely dazed, but like hope is bursting out of his chest. There’s no way this isn’t anything but reality. Stiles is too real, his presence too strong. Derek couldn’t possibly imagine any of this.

“They told me,” Derek says. He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out the locket. “They returned this and Peter said they found it on a dead body – your dead body.”

Stiles rests his forehead against Derek’s for a moment. “Oh, thank fuck,” he says. “I had lost it. I thought you’d kill me. I mean, it’s sad what news came with it, but I’m here now. I promise.”

Derek smiles weakly. “Scott,” he clears his throat. “Scott didn’t tell me you were alive. He just told me not to come.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says. “We thought you knew I was back. I’m sorry I didn’t try to contact you – I was messed up.”

Derek doesn’t even need to forgive him.

“I did get your email.”

Derek stills, remembering what he had sent when he thought Stiles was dead. He feels his face go red, and he adds embarrassment to all the things he’s feeling right now.

Stiles laughs, and it sounds sweet. “I’m glad you didn’t forget me,” he says. “Fuck, Derek, it’s so good to see you.”

“I – I would’ve fought harder to see you,” Derek says. “If I had known you were alive. I would’ve fought to see you even though you didn’t want me there.”

Stiles strokes the side of his face, and Derek can’t get enough of touching him. “I know,” Stiles says, before climbing onto Derek’s lap. He tucks his face into Derek’s neck and then they hold each other again.

Derek can hear Stiles’ heartbeat. It sounds like life.

–

His mother finds them like that, curled around each other in some random room in the conference centre. She looks alarmed and disappointed that Derek crawled away with someone until she glances at Stiles’ face.

It’s the first time Derek has seen his mother speechless.

“Your majesty,” Stiles says, loosening his hold of Derek only slightly. He doesn’t get up and give a fucking bow, and Derek doesn’t want him to. He’s always liked how Stiles was never fazed by the fact Derek’s family is all royalty.

As soon as they get home, Stiles takes off his uniform and kicks it to the side. He’s still wearing an undershirt and Derek can’t see his scars. He can’t see if there are any new ones. Derek gets changed too and he can’t bear to take his eyes off Stiles, even for a moment.

Stiles frowns at the pile of clothes on the floor. “I had to wear the stupid thing to get into the conference. They saw the uniform and the medal and they assumed I was a part of the event. I’m never wearing it again.”

They both emerge from getting changed with their fingers tangled together. Laura is there, standing at the edge of the room with tears in her eyes, hands clasped together in front of her.

Then Peter walks into the room. He’s obviously not expecting much of anything, but Derek’s happiness at Stiles being back dies down. Anger replaces it. Cold, hard, anger, because Peter was the one who told Derek that Stiles hadn’t made it.

Derek strides forward and punches his uncle. He hears bones crack, and Peter swears, staggering backwards and clutching his nose.

“Derek!” Stiles says, reaching for his hand and trying to pull him back.

Derek’s nostrils flare. He hates the man in front of him right now. He hates his uncle.

“Oh,” Peter says, when he catches a glimpse of Stiles’ face. He gets to his feet. “To be honest, I expected that punch a lot sooner. But your friend took his own sweet time letting you know he was back from the war.”

Stiles winces behind Derek. He’s still cradling Derek’s fist, and he rubs his thumbs across Derek’s knuckles.

“Why did you lie?” Derek asks, trying to keep himself together.

Peter gives him a dirty look. “Isn’t it obvious? You’re fragile, Derek. I was almost certain you wouldn’t have the energy to continue this campaign of yours after you found out he was dead.”

Stiles scowls next to him, glaring at Peter like his life depends on it.

“Peter, leave,” his mother says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Peter rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath. Derek feels a sort of satisfaction at the sight of the blood running out of Peter’s nose.

“I really need to teach you how to throw a proper punch,” Stiles sighs.

His mother glares. “Stiles – as glad as I am that you’re miraculously alive, I do not think that’s a good idea.”

Stiles shrugs. He guides Derek to the couch and makes him sit, and soon there’s an ice pack for his already bruised hand. He never strays far from Derek, and Derek doesn’t mind. He needs Stiles’ touch right now.

“How – how are you here?” Laura asks.

Stiles grimaces. He offers a short explanation – obviously not wanting to relive anything. But he says that after he was found, the medics probably saw the locket around his neck when they were treating him for injuries.

Laura sighs. “Promise you’ll stay with us for at least a few weeks, Stiles.”

Stiles looks at Derek. He’s barely been able to say a word, still reeling from the shock of it all. Stiles is here. He’s here.

“Of course,” Stiles says. “If you still want me.”

Derek smiles at him and nods. He’s never felt so relieved – he’s so happy Stiles is here.

–

They don’t bother setting up one of the guest rooms for Stiles. He climbs into bed with Derek, even though he looks nervous about it.

“What’s wrong?” Derek says.

“I haven’t been good at sleeping recently,” Stiles admits.

Derek reaches for his hand, clasps it tight. They’re lying on the bed facing each other. Derek can’t get enough of Stiles’ face, the moles on his cheek, and he stares. “We don’t have to sleep.”

Stiles smiles. “Are we going to stare at each other all night?”

Derek shrugs. It doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

“So I’m nice to look at, then?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Maybe.”

“Well, you’re very nice to look at,” Stiles says.

Derek looks away. After all these conferences and seeing people about – it’s hard to believe it. They’re always looking at Derek’s face like there’s something wrong with him. Not everyone is like Stiles.

“You know,” Stiles says, voice teasing. “My father received your anonymous donation.”

Derek feels his cheeks go red. “It’s anonymous. It could’ve been from anyone.”

“Uh huh,” Stiles says. “Thank you. It helped pay for some of my medical bills. I’m – I’m seeing a therapist.”

“Same.”

Stiles wriggles forward. He looks Derek in the eye and takes a deep breath. “Your uncle is a dick. I hate him more than I did before. Derek, you’re one of the strongest people I know.”

Derek thinks that might be a lie, but Stiles looks determined. He finds and kisses the inside of Derek’s wrist, before he slowly rolls Derek over, climbing over his body.

“Is this okay?” Stiles whispers, fingers underneath Derek’s chin.

Derek nods.

Stiles kisses him softly, and his weight over Derek’s body is everything Derek needs to remind himself that Stiles is here, that Stiles is alive and in his arms.

–

Stiles drags him to the kitchen one night. It’s the night before he goes back home and this time Derek is coming with him. Derek will finally be able to meet Scott and Stiles’ father properly. He’s looking forward to it more than he can say.

“Come on, Derek, for old time’s sake,” Stiles says. “We can have ice cream again.”

Derek follows him willingly, trying to hide his smile. As soon as they’re in the kitchen Stiles turns around and kisses him full on the lips. He sighs and winds his arms around Derek’s neck.

“I love you,” he says, kissing him hot and deep.

Derek pulls back, panting slightly. He’s not sure he heard Stiles correctly, and Stiles starts to kiss his jaw and neck. Derek shudders when he feels the scrape of Stiles’ teeth.

They’ve had to learn each other in these past few weeks. They’ve had to talk to each other while trying new things, while touching each other for the first time, because Stiles responds badly to some things and not others. It’s the same for Derek.

“You – you love me?” Derek asks.

Stiles breaks away and looks at him. “Yeah, dude. We sent each other love letters.”

“I still have yours,” Derek confesses.

“Me too,” Stiles says, grinning. His fingers are still tangled in Derek’s hair.

“And here –” Derek sticks his hand in his jean pocket and pulls out the locket. He passes it to Stiles. “This is still yours.”

“Really?”

Derek nods. “I love you too. And I loved you then as well.”

Stiles looks down at the locket. Derek wonders if he won’t want it anymore, just because it reminds him of his time away. But Stiles’ face looks fond and he gently puts the chain around his neck, tucking the locket beneath his shirt. Derek likes how it sits near his heart.

“Ice cream?” Stiles finally asks.

They both sit on the bench again, even though they probably shouldn’t. They’ve cut up fresh strawberries for their ice cream and Stiles has smothered his with chocolate sauce.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?” He shuffles over and presses his whole side against Derek’s.

“Are you sure you want to be with someone who’s a part of the Royal Family?” Derek asks, because they’ve barely talked about it. “My life isn’t exactly normal.”

“Are you sure you want to be with someone who hasn’t adjusted to whatever a normal life is?” Stiles says back.

Derek nods, letting his eyes rest on Stiles’ face. “Yes. I want to be with you.”

“And I want to be with you.”

Derek slips off the kitchen bench and takes Stiles’ empty bowl, setting it aside. Stiles’ gaze is on him, warm, and Derek feels happy all of a sudden. He knows he wants to be with Stiles for forever.

He steps forward – between Stiles’ open legs – and brings their lips together. Derek feels Stiles smiling against his mouth and Derek has to pull back for a moment. He drinks in the sight of Stiles before him and Derek’s so fucking grateful.

Stiles was the one to bring Derek home, but now – now Stiles is home.

**Author's Note:**

> _Part way through the fic Derek is led to believe that Stiles died while in the army. Stiles was not aware that Derek thought this, and later on they are reunited._
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> Thank you very much for reading!! Let me know if I should tag anything else.
> 
> You can find this story on my [tumblr](http://matildajones.tumblr.com/post/128522632445/modern-day-princederek-soldierstiles-happy):)
> 
> Also look at this [beautiful artwork](http://andavs.tumblr.com/post/128579151007/stiles-is-standing-there-in-his-uniform-hair-long) done by andavs! It's just gorgeous :)


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